Dawnstrider
by Eternal Odyssey
Summary: Post-Cata. The story of my toons on World of Warcraft. I do take a few liberties with NPCs, but all original characters are mine. Please Read & Review, it makes me sad when you don't  P. It also makes it so I can;t improve. So, enjoy my first lengthy fic!
1. A Tale of Battle

So, first lengthy WoW fic :D. I most certainly do not own WoW, or I'd be a very happy boy. I do own Arthamir, Aetherius, and, as you'll meet later, Syllanna, Alandial, Sathacin, Westaniar, Narsul, and various other original characters.

* * *

_February 6__th__, in the first year after the Cataclysm._

The most overwhelming part about battle is the noise. Men and women yelling, screaming, shouting ragged war-cries and the occasional beg for help, or Light-forbid, mercy. None was given, by either side. To ask it was a disgrace to honor, to the Horde. Hah. I sound like an orc…Aeth must be getting to me. Not that he's an orc, no, no. He's Sin'dorei (Blood Elven), as surely as I am. But, his story is not necessary right now. I apologize, I ramble. There's likely truth to the assumption that I am thickheaded…regardless, you likely wish to know what I'm on about. It was unusually warm for early February, and the men were sweating in their armor, though this may not have been from the heat.

I'm a Blood Knight, you see—a Master, to be exact…an officer, to those not knowledgeable about the Order. That is, the Order of Blood Knights, the elite Order of paladins that serves Silvermoon. Anyway, the battle…but first a little explanation. Infuriating, I know, but it must be done for understanding to be reached. The Dawnfury Battalion is an elite corps of the Thalassian military comprised of the standard Rangers and Spellbreakers, as well as a contingent of Knights and a lodge of Farstriders: the Wolfrunner Lodge, colloquially known as Aeth's Elites, after its commander, Aetherius Sunwolf, who also happens to be my uncle.

My name is Arthamir Dawnstrider, by the way. Or, to use my full title, Master Arthamir Dawnstrider of Quel'Thalas, Lord of House Dawnstrider. A mouthful, to be sure, but it is what it is. Anyway, this elite battalion had been dispatched to track a force of Twilight's Hammer…but things changed when we caught wind of the Alliance.

The tenuous peace between our nations had almost reached the point when our non-aggression pact could reach the point of a proper peace treaty, or possibly even an alliance against the Illidari, Legion, Scourge, or possible all of the above. However, when Garrosh Hellsceam, Overlord of the Warsong Offensive (which was the major branch of the Horde offensive against the Lich King) had an army to do his bidding, much of this was lost, and more and more battles were fought between us.

Whatever was left, however, evaporated at the Battle of Angrathar the Wrathgate. I was unfortunate to witness it…treasonous members of the Royal Apothecary Society under Grand Apothecary Putress unleashed a massive amount of the Forsaken Blight, a terrible new Plague that killed the living and the undead alike. The great combined army of the Alliance Vanguard and the Warsong Offensive fell victim to the vile treachery, the noxious fumes.

When both powers marched on the Undercity, formerly Lordaeron, each under the command of their respective leader (Varian Wrynn of Stormwind for the Alliance and Warchief Thrall of the Horde), to destroy the rebel Forsaken…it reached a breaking point. Wrynn was under the impression that he would retake Lordaeron for the Alliance, but he assumed that the Forsaken had all joined Putress…Sylvanas fought alongside Thrall to retake Undercity, and put a bloody end to the uprising of Putress and his dark master, Varimathras. When the two leaders met in the Royal Chambers, Wrynn expressed his disgust at the atrocities committed by the Apothecaries in the name of science, and vowed that there will never be peace while the Horde plagues the world…a sorrowful thing, to feel so much blind rage…but I digress.

Returning to the battle, we had given up pursuit of the Twilight's Hammer in favor of battle with the Alliance, as that seems to be the current policy. The enemy seemed to be a detachment of the Ninth Legion, the bitter rival of our own parent army, the Horde's Ironfury Legion, led by Gorkun Ironfury, of the Warsong Clan.

There was no diplomacy. We had lost contact with Aeth's Elites, our forward scouts, days before, and when the ragged troop returned short several valuable men, we heard the tale of small-scale but ferocious guerrilla warfare against Darnassians (Night Elves in the common vernacular) who appeared in thin air and melted back into the woods with ease that astounded even this masters of fieldcraft, and vicious packs of worgen that could scent them a mile off, and attack as easily with tooth and claw as with a sword.

After the medics patched their wounds, we moved into position to attack. It was glorious…the column of the red and gold of the Spellbreakers streaked with black and crimson of the Blood Knights slamming into the flank of the unsuspecting Alliance footsoldiers, the rain of arrows cutting down the attempted cavalry charge…it was perfect, save for one minor issue. We were outnumbered almost two to one. Our advantages allowed us victory, but it was bloody. The adjutant estimated a twenty percent loss in manpower. It was a hard blow. When we arrived in Dragonmaw Port, we were greeted by a messenger with orders to return to Silvermoon for guard duty. A couple weeks later, we buried the dead in full ceremony on their home soil. Another day in the life of Dawnfury Battalion.


	2. The Wayfarer's Rest

Jovia was the first to applaud and—not wanting to embarrass the well-loved innkeeper—the rest of the assembled crowd created a crescendo of real or pretended appreciation for my tale of battle and daring deeds. Of course, between my tales of battles present, Aeth's stories of conflicts past, and Syll's chattering about random subjects, House Dawnstrider as a whole likely wears on the nerves of the adventurers and other riffraff that congregate at the popular traveler's lodging, the Wayfarer's Rest Inn. Many likely have tales such as mine, but Jovia always asks to hear the story of my travels and warfare every time the Battalion rotates back to the city. When we're here in town, we're a common enough sight, really. The Order's regulation allows for us to come to our favorite taverns when not under active orders, but still on duty.

Truth be told, Wayfarer's may well be the finest establishment of its kind in all Quel'Thalas. A whopping seven stories, the two tavern floors are almost always jam-packed with adventurers, mercenaries, and their friends, all looking for a mug of foaming ale or a decent wine and a place to relax, unwind, and share their adventures. The third floor, the dining floor, is reserved for those who've rented rooms to eat in peace from the riffraff who come in to eat and drink, but leave for cheaper lodging, or find that the inn's full. Above that is the cheap "rooms," though they're really just beds with cloth dividers to maximize space. Above that's the private rooms, narrow stalls with enough rooms for a bed, sometimes two, or maybe a two-person one, and a dresser and nightstand. Then there's the bathroom, a large floor with tubs with dividers surrounding them, with a cake of soap off to the side and a flap to get in and out. At the very top are the deluxe rooms, complete with dresser, nightstand, queen-size bed and even their own tub. This floor, as it is the most expensive, is offset by the fact that about a third of it is the barracks-like staff quarters, for those who get room and board as part of their wages.

Regardless of the inn's structure, it was a lively place. Even with three Knights (Sathacin, Alandial, and I), a known Farstrider and his apprentice (Aeth and Syll), and a troop of no less than four shock-enchanted baton-wielding bouncers per bar floor, four more ready to be called on the dining floor, and two more at each of the two doors, there were conflicts escalating, deflating, and rising again constantly. Syll, who works here part-time when not training or on campaign as Aeth's apprentice, has told stories about how when there's –not- an obvious presence of tabard-wearing Knights, the fights –do- break out, as it's well known that Farstriders are soldiers, not police, and all Aeth'd do is crack heads himself if there was a fight.

Musing aside, it was about this point that Jovia came back to our table with that pleasant grin on her face, asking if we needed anything. That's a huge thing from her, since with a staff of more than twenty bartenders, barmaids and barmen, as well as nineteen bouncers, she's plenty rich enough to just sit back and watch the money roll in like some goblin Trade Prince. But no, people like us who she knows and likes she constantly checks up on, with her assistant (usually Syll when we're in town) grabbing our order if she doesn't think the others are moving quick enough. In any case, she engaged in her usual pleasantries, and after a bit of inane conversation, she asked, "So…are the rumors true?"

I blinked, taken aback. "What rumors? Jovia, I'm been in Silvermoon all of today, I'm not up to date on gossip."

She looked as shocked as I. Sath and Alandial leaned in, and while Aeth pretended not to pay attention, I knew that graying black hair of his hid attentive ears, and those bug-eyed goggles masked curious eyes. We were silent for a minute or so and when Syll brought our order—ale for Aeth, black coffee for Sath and I, and tea for Alandial—Jovia took a breath and explained. "It's been going around town that…the Alliance is going to take Undercity. They say it's from a very reliable source."

Alandial arched a brow. "Who're they?" She was always the quick-minded of us three.

Jovia smiled with a bit of embarrassment, "Jacelin and Gordir."

I laughed. "Jacelin and Gordir? The rogue twins? Jovia, they live two doors down, so I know what I talk about when I say they've as much sense as a couple of 'thistleheads."

Jovia held her hands up in surrender. "I know, I know, but get this…" She lowered her voice. "A squad of Spellbreakers showed up at their house two nights ago, with a Master Blood Knight and two other Knights, and they weren't seen till the next afternoon…walking home from _Farstrider Square._"

I caught my breath a bit, I'll admit. Either those two troublemakers dropped in to have a little archery practice with the Rangers under the supervision of the Guard, or they were taken for a nice little "visit" to the Order's headquarters. I finally asked the very detailed, specific question, "…and?"

Jovia shook her head. "They shut up after that. Won't say a word."

Sath frowned. "How would they know about that?"

Alandial answered quickly, "Isn't it obvious, Sath? The Rogue's Guild told them."

I declined to comment. Everyone knew that, no matter how much the Magistrate or the military blustered to the contrary, the Guild had eyes and ears everywhere.

I looked at the no doubt pricy mechanical clock that Jovia had commissioned Aeth to build some time before, "Well, we'd best be off. Early patrol tomorrow, and all. And Aeth has a training run to do with a bunch of highly gifted Ranger recruits," I flashed a grin to the grizzled or Farstrider, who responded with a grunt. "A pleasure as always, Jovia Sunpath." I bowed formally, and as always, she flashed a grin and returned the gesture.

She replied solemnly as possible with that wide of grin, "May the Sun light your path, and guide you to victory."

I said in turn, "May the Light shine on you, and the Eternal Sun shine ever upon you."

She broke it with an informal embrace, each of us in turn, and all of us, save Syll who always stayed to help Jovia lock up, wove through the crowd, nodded to the bouncers at the door, and headed through the still-bustling Bazaar to our home.


End file.
